Pretty Young Things (Chapter 9)
She never really expected anything.
(Really.)
He was just a good friend.
(It’s not like he ditched his girlfriend, his grandfather, for you.)
She is good. She is happy. They are friends.
(We never change, do we?)
She feels better now.
This isn’t how it’s supposed to be;
(They are friends.)
this one-sided, blind-siding, infatuation with a boy.
(It is lonely at the top and she is nothing if not Queen.)
She does not require company.
If they get any further apart in this Godforsaken elevator they’ll both be climbing the walls.
(just let me leave and get out of your way)
And he stares like she can’t feel it.
(there are times when I hate you)
Like she can’t hear what he wants to say. Confirm. Remind himself?
(She does not need to be reminded.)
Like she doesn’t want to scream at him to stop showing up and to stop being so nice and to just leave her in whatever dark hole she falls in next and to just leave.
(you’re the only one I wish I could forget)
But she is quiet. There are no words left between them.
(now they drown; suffocate under the weight of the chronically unsaid)
She goes out with Eric and smiles at Elliott and sulks with Chuck. And chats with Dorota and works with Eleanor and works and works and works.
She sees a familiar dress on a mannequin in a storeroom and she does not think of Armani and tabletop catwalks
(she does not remember she has only ever liked champagne on Nate’s lips)
She does not protest or accost her boss
(“Isn’t it darling, Jennifer? What other gems do you have hidden in those books?”)
She sets her jaw in stone
(it joins her heart)
She creates a wedding dress for a real love and does not think of fairytales or Knights.
(I swear I was never in love)
She graduates, gets a scholarship, lives through Bryant Park, builds a successful magazine, and can swear to God she never loved Nathaniel Archibald;
(she is stone, she is stone, she is stone)
Then the elevator dings and she forces light and airy and watches as he is pulled up the staircase-
And she lies, and she schemes, and she leaves and still she is the chosen one. She apologizes, makes amends, and she is always there, and still she is not who he thought she was-
And she is done.
(“Yeah, I’m done.”)
Really, they’re just friends.
(“Friends don’t kiss friends at their fashion shows.”)
Really, really, good friends.
(“You know you can always come to me, right?”)
And it is good that he is happy.
(“Now I’m with Serena and I’m so happy.”)
Friends want good things for each other
(”…us hanging out was, just as friends…”)
and they crack naughty jokes as their friends retreat upstairs with their latest flame.
(Crack jokes, Jennifer. Not skulls.)
She is happy her friend had a good birthday.
(Her tongue does not taste of bile.)
She is happy he has the girl of his dreams.
(I’m saying things I really wish I mean)
And she hates herself. And she hates him a little bit more.
(the only one I’d love to not forgive)
Because she can tear him down and tear him up and he can make her cry and make her crazy
(but still you live inside of me, so tell me how is that?)
Because he can read her when she wants to be invisible
(“…She missed the whole ceremony. What’s the matter?”)
and she is invisible when she needs him to see
(I wish you never messed around with me)
Because she knows he is everything he thought he never was and nothing like he thought he could’ve been
(and though you break my heart)
Because he is not enough and she is too much
(and I don’t want to love you in no kind of way)
Because she is the spark and he is the gasoline and he needs that as much as she pretends not to.
So she will hurt him
(and try to enjoy it)
And he will not deserve her
(and try to ignore it)
But she will be there at the end of the day.
(That’s what I do)
(Really.)
He was just a good friend.
(It’s not like he ditched his girlfriend, his grandfather, for you.)
She is good. She is happy. They are friends.
(We never change, do we?)
She feels better now.
This isn’t how it’s supposed to be;
(They are friends.)
this one-sided, blind-siding, infatuation with a boy.
(It is lonely at the top and she is nothing if not Queen.)
She does not require company.
If they get any further apart in this Godforsaken elevator they’ll both be climbing the walls.
(just let me leave and get out of your way)
And he stares like she can’t feel it.
(there are times when I hate you)
Like she can’t hear what he wants to say. Confirm. Remind himself?
(She does not need to be reminded.)
Like she doesn’t want to scream at him to stop showing up and to stop being so nice and to just leave her in whatever dark hole she falls in next and to just leave.
(you’re the only one I wish I could forget)
But she is quiet. There are no words left between them.
(now they drown; suffocate under the weight of the chronically unsaid)
She goes out with Eric and smiles at Elliott and sulks with Chuck. And chats with Dorota and works with Eleanor and works and works and works.
She sees a familiar dress on a mannequin in a storeroom and she does not think of Armani and tabletop catwalks
(she does not remember she has only ever liked champagne on Nate’s lips)
She does not protest or accost her boss
(“Isn’t it darling, Jennifer? What other gems do you have hidden in those books?”)
She sets her jaw in stone
(it joins her heart)
She creates a wedding dress for a real love and does not think of fairytales or Knights.
(I swear I was never in love)
She graduates, gets a scholarship, lives through Bryant Park, builds a successful magazine, and can swear to God she never loved Nathaniel Archibald;
(she is stone, she is stone, she is stone)
Then the elevator dings and she forces light and airy and watches as he is pulled up the staircase-
And she lies, and she schemes, and she leaves and still she is the chosen one. She apologizes, makes amends, and she is always there, and still she is not who he thought she was-
And she is done.
(“Yeah, I’m done.”)
Really, they’re just friends.
(“Friends don’t kiss friends at their fashion shows.”)
Really, really, good friends.
(“You know you can always come to me, right?”)
And it is good that he is happy.
(“Now I’m with Serena and I’m so happy.”)
Friends want good things for each other
(”…us hanging out was, just as friends…”)
and they crack naughty jokes as their friends retreat upstairs with their latest flame.
(Crack jokes, Jennifer. Not skulls.)
She is happy her friend had a good birthday.
(Her tongue does not taste of bile.)
She is happy he has the girl of his dreams.
(I’m saying things I really wish I mean)
And she hates herself. And she hates him a little bit more.
(the only one I’d love to not forgive)
Because she can tear him down and tear him up and he can make her cry and make her crazy
(but still you live inside of me, so tell me how is that?)
Because he can read her when she wants to be invisible
(“…She missed the whole ceremony. What’s the matter?”)
and she is invisible when she needs him to see
(I wish you never messed around with me)
Because she knows he is everything he thought he never was and nothing like he thought he could’ve been
(and though you break my heart)
Because he is not enough and she is too much
(and I don’t want to love you in no kind of way)
Because she is the spark and he is the gasoline and he needs that as much as she pretends not to.
So she will hurt him
(and try to enjoy it)
And he will not deserve her
(and try to ignore it)
But she will be there at the end of the day.
(That’s what I do)